The Seekers: The Children of Darkness (Dystopian Sci-Fi - Book 1) (9 page)

The third day of their flight from Temple City dawned with the
blessing of groggy forgetfulness. Nathaniel awoke to a low-lying fog that soon burned
off with the sun. He insisted he and Orah start immediately on the final leg of
their trek, taking little pause for breakfast.

His heart lightened as they entered
familiar terrain. He’d traveled farther from Little Pond than ever before, and
relished his return.

He lifted his face to the sun and proclaimed his feelings
aloud. “How good to come home. How wonderful to see our families again.”

How reckless to rush off the week before, and how lucky
all had ended so well.

Yet when he looked back at Orah, she’d turned grim. “We must
learn to never think that way again.”

He stopped and faced her. “Why won’t you let me celebrate
our good fortune?”

“What good fortune would that be?”

“We’ve challenged the vicars and returned unharmed.”

He resumed walking with a hint of a swagger, but Orah cut him
off. “Unharmed, but not unburdened.”

He sighed, heaving his shoulders up and down more
dramatically than necessary. “Don’t I deserve to enjoy my homecoming before taking
off to light knows where?”

“You promised the vicars you’d return in a week. The farther
away you can get in that time, the better. Once they discover you misled them,
they’ll come looking, and if they find you, you might pray for a teaching as
the lesser punishment.”

She was right, but he tried to cling to the good feeling. “A
few days won’t—”

“Generations of keepers died to preserve the secret, and you’d
sleep late for a few days?”

“What would you have me do?”

“Leave at first light.”

“First light tomorrow? I can’t be ready by then.”

“Of course you can... with my help. Adamsville is just the
first stop, with no hint of which town will come next or how many towns will
follow. You’ll need water skins for dry stretches, food for at least ten days,
warm clothing, a sharp knife and a hatchet. I’ll contribute the few coins my
grandfather left me. We can start collecting supplies as soon as we get home.
Thomas will help too. We’ll gather them in small bunches to avoid notice and
store them in the NOT tree.”

He considered her plan. Though he hated to leave so quickly,
they could be ready by morning. Yet provisions remained only a part of the
challenge. “What about my father?”

“We’ll make up a story.”

“You mean lie?”

“A necessary story. No one in Little Pond has ever gone to
the vicars and volunteered for a teaching. We’ll tell them you so impressed the
clerics they decided to send you on a mission. You’re not sure how long you’ll
be gone, and you’re forbidden to discuss it further.”

“They’ll believe this?”

“We’ve been to Temple City, but neither of us bear the look
of a teaching, and too little time has passed and.... They’ll have to believe
us. How else could we have returned so soon?”

Nathaniel nodded. He’d never lied to his father, but the
story would work. His father would let him go on a mission for the light, and
not worry, at least for the first week.

He stood there open-mouthed as Orah spun around and resumed
her march.

“Come along,” she called back. “We
can make Little Pond by noon if we hurry.”

***

Nathaniel had crossed less than half the footpath to his
cottage when his father rushed out to embrace him. After they separated, he
held his son at arm’s length and delved deeply into his eyes. “It’s you,
Nathaniel, and unchanged.”

“There’s been no teaching, not for myself and not for Orah.”

Astonishment spread across his father’s face. “How is that possible?
When I read your note, I assumed the vicars would consume you both.”

Nathaniel swallowed hard and chose his words carefully. “I
had no plan when I arrived in Temple City. It’s the biggest place I’ve ever
seen. The people were all afraid, and deacons marched everywhere.”

“Such a reckless thing to do. I’d have stopped you if I
could.”

“That’s why I didn’t give you the chance.”

His father took a step back and eyed Nathaniel with the look
of one who’s discovered his old friend had changed while they were apart. “How
did you free Orah?”

“I went and offered myself in her place. Well, the vicars
had never seen such a thing. My actions impressed them so much they thought I might
serve the Temple in better ways than being taught. They decided to send me on a
mission for the light.”

His father winced as if struck. Though a loyal child of
light, he mistrusted the vicars.

Nathaniel pressed on. “I’m to go far away, seeking something
of enormous significance to the Temple.” That part at least rang true. “Who
knows how long I’ll be gone, and I can’t say more than that. They forbid me to
reveal details.”

The light drained from his father’s eyes. “Then I’m to lose
you again, and maybe forever.”

“Of course not. I’ll come back, and when I do I’ll have changed,
but only in ways that will make you proud.”

His father waited, digesting his son’s words before his expression
softened. “I’m already proud of you, Nathaniel, and that will never change.”

***

Nathaniel arrived with a satchel of supplies: bags of dried
apples, flatbread and smoked meat, two water skins, and a hatchet—enough to fill
nearly half his pack. He itched to start the journey, but the talk with his
father weighed on him. What if his father was right? What if he’d never return?
He waited for Orah to ease his misgivings.

She arrived in a whirlwind, bearing a bag bigger than his. “I
brought most of what we need. Thomas agreed to fetch the rest: some twine, a
pocketknife and two blankets. A bit more food and we’ll be ready.”

Nathaniel sized up the bag on the ground. A sheaf of paper
caught his eye. “What’s this?”

Orah flashed a smile. “Paper for my log. I’ll need it to
record our journey.”

His head snapped around as the implication struck him. “Orah
of Little Pond! There’s no way you’re coming with me. Not a chance. I forbid
it.”

“Since when do we forbid each other anything?”

“You forbade me to become a vicar.”

“That was different. You were about to make an awful choice
to protect me.”

“I’m trying to protect you now.”

“I can’t let you go without helping. I’m in your debt for rescuing
me.”

Nathaniel looked away, embarrassed, but he recalled his
father’s concern. How could he place her at such risk? “Seeking the keep is not
child’s play. Think what they’ll do if they catch us?”

“And if I stay, what will happen when you fail to return?
They’ll come back and take me for a teaching, or worse. I’ve had a taste of
their darkness and don’t yearn for more. Besides, you can’t seek the keep without
me.”

“Why not?”

“Because only I can find the next keeper. I’ve figured out
the way to Adamsville and know what the symbol means. I can get us there and
you cannot. So it’s settled.”

Then to show her strength, she hoisted the two satchels, one
in each hand, and tossed them into the shelter.

***

At scarcely first light the next morning, Nathaniel fidgeted
while Orah organized her pack, her breath emerging as rapid puffs of white. Why
had she insisted on coming? Why had she abandoned her orderly world? To search
for the elusive keep or to be with him? For years, she’d humored him, listening
to his dreams, never believing they’d come to pass. Now dreams had become
reality. They were about to leave Little Pond, maybe forever.

He was glad she’d come.

She’d exchanged her black skirt for pants tucked into
lambskin boots. Both wore the woolen jackets common to the Ponds, which they’d
need until midmorning for warmth. Soon lighter clothing would suffice, but they
had to prepare for the worst. How long would they be gone? If they needed these
jackets again when winter returned, they’d be gone a long time indeed.

They divided the load between them, with the heaviest items—the
hatchet, water skins and dried meat—going into Nathaniel’s pack, all except the
paper for her log.

With their provisions squared away, nothing remained but to
wait for Thomas, who’d insisted on seeing them off. The two took turns touching
the NOT tree for luck, realizing they were about to do more than depart Little
Pond. They were about to leave their youth behind.

Nathaniel startled to a crashing in the woods.

Thomas stumbled into the clearing, grinning foolishly and
breathing out steam. He lugged a pack as big as theirs, though it appeared
larger on his smaller frame. He apologized between breaths. “Sorry, haven’t got
used to this thing. A strap caught on a branch.”

Orah and Nathaniel spoke as one. “What are you doing,
Thomas?”

He forced a look of surprise. “You didn’t think I’d let you
go without me.”

Orah collected herself first. “You have no idea what this is
about.”

“I know you’re going on an adventure and bringing lots of
food. I’d guess it’s something the vicars won’t like, which means it’s perfect
for me.”

She crossed her arms and dug in her heels. “This isn’t a
game, Thomas. You can’t come.”

“How do you plan to stop me?”

“For the last time, go home.”

She turned to Nathaniel for support, but he considered the gloom
that had settled over Thomas at festival—and the spark that flared in him now.

Orah seemed to read his thoughts. “Don’t you dare,
Nathaniel.”

“
You’re
coming. How’s that different?”

She arched her back and lifted her chin. “I was with you in
Temple City.”

“He went there too and suffered more than either of us.”

“No matter. You can’t come, Thomas, and if you follow, I’ll
make your life miserable.”

Thomas grinned. “I’ve been made miserable by the vicars. You
don’t hold a candle to them.”

She snorted, hoisted her pack, and signaled for Nathaniel to
do the same, but as she turned to go, Thomas blocked her way.

His grin had disappeared. “You can’t deny me.”

“Why not?”

His lower lip trembled. “I thought I’d never see you again,
because you’d never give in as I did. I’m ashamed, and helping you is my only
way to make amends. Besides, when the two of you go missing, they’ll come take
me for the second teaching. You
will not
leave me behind.”

Nathaniel gave Orah time, knowing her, knowing how she’d
decide.

At last her arms went limp, and she
nodded.

With a sly smile, Nathaniel slapped Thomas on the back. “Pact
of the Ponds.” Orah opened her mouth, but before she could argue, he reminded
her of the rule. “No debate after the pact’s declared.”

Thomas squeezed between them to form a circle, covered his
heart with his right hand, and thrust his left into the center.

Nathaniel did the same, gripping Thomas’s
wrist, and waited for Orah.

She finally gave in, sealing the pact, but insisted on the last
word. “So be it. Against my better judgment. We’re now three seekers, and may
the light protect us all.”

“The beginning of wisdom is found in doubting; by doubting
we come to the question, and by seeking we may come upon the truth.” ~
Pierre
Abelard

Orah led Nathaniel at a furious pace, leaving Thomas lagging
behind. She kept to trails they’d explored as children, winding paths most
adults had forgotten. When she finally stopped at a clearing, she glared back
at the path for a full minute before Thomas appeared.

He staggered in and collapsed on a log, apologizing between
breaths. “I’ll do better, Orah, I promise. How much farther to go?”

Why did he have to come?

She had no choice but to help Nathaniel—how could she leave
him alone to bear such a burden? Now she had to watch out for Thomas as well.

“We let you join us,” she said. “Isn’t that enough?”

Nathaniel set his pack down between them. “His question
deserves an answer. Time to tell us where we’re going.”

A deep sigh. They always expected her to have answers, but
she only pretended to be a leader, an act perfected when they were little. In
what seemed like an instant, through the villainy of the vicars and a quirk of
fate, she’d been drawn into this reckless venture so counter to her nature. She
was a weaver, and weavers took no risks. The flax never failed, and her
neighbors always needed cloth. Nathaniel was the brave one, charging into
Temple City. On her own, she’d never have taken such a chance.

With the sole of her boot, she brushed away leaves and smoothed
the dirt into a circle, then found a stick to draw with. Her friends huddled behind.

“Here’s Little Pond.” She made a mark on the ground. “Three
days east is what we’ve been calling Temple City, the place so recently a kind host
to us all. From what the old prisoner told Nathaniel, the Temple has set up a grid,
north to south and east to west, with other Temple Cities, each responsible for
everyone within a three day walk. From that we can conclude they’re located
here, here and here.”

She scratched the letters “TC” to the east, north and south
of the first Temple City, and paused to be sure they followed.

“The shopkeeper in Great Pond told me his wife travels to
Adamsville twice a year to visit family. A five-day walk, he said, as the crow
flies, but six to loop around the Ponds. We know the five ponds follow a crescent
to the southeast.” She sketched in the ponds, starting at Little Pond and
continuing southeastward. “I asked the shopkeeper if Adamsville is so far from
Temple City that they never see a vicar. He said no, a vicar visits more
frequently, because he comes from a different place just a day away. So Adamsville
must be to the southeast and about a day northwest of the lower Temple City.
That places it here.”

She carved an “x” and checked to see if they were impressed.
“One last thing. The main roads follow the grid.” She drew connecting lines
between the Temple Cities. “I think we should avoid them.”

Thomas contemplated his tired feet and wiggled his toes. “Are
you sure we have to? That’ll make the trip harder.”

Sure?
She wasn’t sure of anything. Since the day the
grand vicar had called her name, her life had spun out of control. Now she
raced through the woods toward light knows where. Thomas and Nathaniel always
expected her to have answers, but never before had the answers mattered so
much.

“I’m not sure of anything, Thomas. I only said I think we
should.”

She glanced from one to the other. This far from Little
Pond, she was starting to realize how rash this undertaking might be. They’d
have to make a number of decisions with no clear answers, and with only an
inkling of the power of the vicars. Against such power, the three of them might
be more fools than seekers.

Please think kindly of me, Nathaniel, and on this journey,
forgive me the mistakes I’ll surely make.

“Orah’s right,” Nathaniel said as if he’d read her mind. “We’ll
avoid the main roads. We can follow a route to the southeast, using the sun for
direction, and cut through the woods when necessary.”

Orah nodded in gratitude, then erased the drawing with her boot
so as to leave no trace behind.

***

For the first couple of days, Orah found well-marked trails,
but by the start of the third she was forced into the woods. She tried following
gullies formed by rainfall, but they often led them astray, and so, afraid of wandering
too far off course, she had them scrambling over downed trees and through thick
brush. By nightfall, they had wasted much of the day traveling in the wrong direction.

They camped at the closest they could find to a clearing. The
next morning, she awoke stiff from the uneven ground and sore with scratches
from the prior day’s trek. Moreover, when she shared her ailments with the
others, she discovered they’d slept fitfully as well. The gravity of their undertaking
had begun to sink in, and an overcast sky offered no consolation.

They broke camp and trudged on. She did her best to keep to a
straight line so they’d eventually emerge from the woods. Sure enough, after a
few more hours of thick brush, the vegetation thinned and they caught a break
in the trees. It had to be a road.

As it came into view, she froze at the sound of gruff men
cursing and laughing ahead. She signaled for her friends to drop to the ground,
and peered through the underbrush.

Deacons.

She stayed low, clawing at dried leaves as if grasping for
the soil beneath. The smell of decay filled her nostrils as she hugged the earth
and tried to slow her heartbeat.

My first mistake—underestimating the Temple of Light
.

Once the clamor had passed, she raised her head. “They’re
searching for us.”

“Not likely,” Nathaniel said. “They couldn’t possibly have
expected me back so soon.”

“We were fools, Nathaniel. They never trusted you and sent deacons
to spy. Had we lingered a day longer, they’d have caught us in flight.”

Thomas crouched on the ground, clutching his legs and rocking
back and forth.

Nathaniel rose to one knee and surveyed the road, then
turned to Orah. “You were smart to stay off the main roads. From now on, we
avoid all roads in daylight. From now on we think differently about everything.”

Orah stood and brushed herself off. “We need to keep moving.
Once we’ve made it three days past the nearest Temple City, I think we’ll be safe.
The next city won’t know about us yet. Even the vicars can’t send word that
far, that fast.”

Thomas released his knees to let the blood flow back into
his arms. “Are you sure this time, Orah?”

“No, Thomas. I said I
think
we’ll be safe.” She
looked at him with resignation. “We’ve left ‘sure’ behind.”

***

They arrived at the outskirts of Adamsville on the seventh
day, covered with the dust of the road. Orah felt more vagabond than seeker, with
the way every passerby stared at her, but as the clay path turned to the gravel
of the merchant district, her mood improved. People there seemed more
accustomed to strangers, and scurried about lost in their own affairs.

This town was less grand than Temple City but many times the
size of Great Pond. Where the latter had one road with a few stores and an inn,
several streets crisscrossed Adamsville, all teeming with commerce. Most of the
buildings stood two stories high—unheard of in the Ponds—with a storefront
below and a residence above, and unlike the wooden dwellings of Little Pond, those
of Adamsville had been constructed of brick. Everything seemed tall and
exceedingly solid.

Orah startled to a new sound—boots crunching on the stony
surface. From around a corner, she spotted four deacons parading abreast. Their
spotless black uniforms gleamed, and the stars on their chests flashed in the
sunlight. They paused at a post between buildings, and the tallest held a
scroll taut to the wood while a second nailed it down.

Once the deacons reformed and marched on, the three
travelers reemerged.

Thomas turned to flee, but Orah grabbed
his arm and whispered, “Better to know your enemy.”

She strode to the message on the post, and her lips moved
silently as she read. The top of the paper bore the heading “Temple Bulletin”
in bold lettering. The first part listed minor infractions committed by the
locals—hair trimmed too long, improper dress and unsanctioned foods—but it was the
second section that raised bumps on her skin.

When finished, she signaled the others to follow as she
ducked between buildings.

Her worry spread to Thomas. “What did it say?”

“It lists those they’re searching for... with names and descriptions.”

“Are we on it?”

“No, only vagrants and people traveling without permits. I
told you they can’t send word that fast. Adamsville is controlled by a
different Temple City.”

“I wish you were more certain of that.”

Orah whirled on him. “It’s not my fault you’re here.”

Nathaniel wrapped a long arm around each of them and lowered
his voice. “But we
are
here, and we shouldn’t linger in the open. Time
to tell us. Where can we find the next keeper?”

At least she knew this answer. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me. I see no mountains here.”

“They’re not mountains, Nathaniel. They’re spindles. The symbol
of the three spindles is the sign of a yarn store. Our second keeper, if he
exists, is a spinner.”

Nathaniel stared out, seeming to reassess the symbol in his
mind, and then stepped from the shadows. “In that case, let’s find this spinner
and get off the road.”